I follow a page on Facebook, “a beautiful mess inside,” she posted the following picture with a caption about using your own scars against someone else.

It struck a nerve, so I wrote.

Everyone’s life experience is different; who are we to judge whose life experience has more value? Because it’s not the quantity of years of life experience a person has, but quality. Five years of the same experience isn’t a very solid foundation to stand and assume some (false) sense of higher understanding or special knowledge. Sure there’s something to be said about learning something new every time we face the same situation, but that’s limiting our learning to ONE source. One (repeating) cycle. That’s insufficient grounds to judge or condemn others.

Take away: Don’t judge others because they’ve sinned differently than you have. You don’t know them and you if you make assumptions or draw conclusions on invalid premises, you never will.

“I only took up kung fu,” Bruce confided, “when I began to feel insecure…”

When Bruce Lee began teaching, he trained non-Chinese people in the classical Chinese martial art of Wing Chun Gung Fu. He was challenged by the Chinese community for teaching a Chinese art to non-Chinese people. He was given the ultimatum to either “shut down or throw down.” He chose to fight for his right to teach and train. Disappointed by how long it took him (3 mins) to take down his opponent, he felt as though his training had failed him. In 1965 he decided to evolve the art of wing chun and create a fusion of western boxing, fencing and wing chun.

Today, Chinese and non-Chinese people alike are privileged to learn the art of Wing Chun Gung Fu, in part because of Bruce. Knowledge, self knowledge (something I strongly believe Gung Fu facilitates), transcends race, gender, creed, age and sexuality. No discrimination, only discipline and dedication. The art never left me, it resonated too deeply for me to let it go, but my training changed (like water, I needed to adapt) and it was kept secret.

And it will continue to be, just like my insecurities. But with each continued day, I will work towards destroying theimages, the illusions, the insecurities, and inevitably destroying the enemy.

I wrote you a letter, but you’ll never get to read it. It’s the last one I’ll ever address to your name. Please know how difficult it was for me to say goodbye. Please know how I wish this day never came.

I haven’t given up on you, not now, not ever. Maybe one day you’ll understand. Maybe not, maybe never.

I just can’t carry you in my heart anymore. It’s gotten too heavy, it’s been dragging me to the floor. And although parts of me pine for a proper farewell, I know that’s foolish, there not a chance in hell…

So with tears steaming,
and my heart bleeding.
I’m letting you go,
so I can start breathing.

I know we have gone our separate ways. Our priorities are different. Our paths no longer side by side.

I don’t agree with the choices you’ve made or the conclusions you’ve drawn. But…
There are parts of me that still care for you. Deeply. Unconditionally. Perhaps codependently.
Whatever it is, it’s there and it’s strong. A pull like no other.
It’s had a hold on me for too long.